"The doctor says I'm in for a bad illness," he answered; "he's going to send someone to nurse me. Remember, if I'm very ill, likely to die— tell Maria this—that I won't have any of my relations sent for except Cousin Eliza. Do you understand? Send for Cousin Eliza!"
"Yes, Cousin Robert," the little girl replied; "but I hope you will soon be better. Oh, you must be well by the time Christmas comes!"
"I may not live till then, my dear. I've been thinking lately that I've made a great mistake in my life; I've been so taken up with money-making that I've forgotten all about God Almighty; and now, when I'm an old man, sick unto death perhaps, it's too late to undo the past."
Mousey did not know what answer to make, but she pressed her quivering lips to his, and sobbed out that she would ask God to make him well. Then Maria came in, and fearing the little girl's emotion would trouble her master, led her gently out of the room.
The days which followed were full of anxiety and suspense, for Mr. Harding was dangerously ill. Mindful of her promise, Mousey wrote to Mrs. Dawson and told her how the old man had expressed a wish for her presence; and the next afternoon, when she was sitting in the parlour, forlorn and heart-sick, the door opened, and a well-known voice called her by name. In another moment she was in Aunt Eliza's arms, and weeping all her pent-up sorrow upon Aunt Eliza's breast.
"There, there, my dear," Mrs. Dawson said at length, "don't cry any more—now don't!"
"I thought you wouldn't be able to come."
"It was a little inconvenient," the good woman acknowledged, "but I happened to know a reliable person capable of managing the house, so I am at liberty to stay as long as I'm wanted."
Later, when she saw how ill Mr. Harding was, Mrs. Dawson felt glad she had come, more especially as he appeared grateful and pleased that she was there. He was quite conscious, and able to speak to her; and the first time he saw her alone, told her he had provided for Mousey in case of his death, and had not forgotten her or her children. Then he directed her where to find a sealed letter he had written at the commencement of his illness, and asked her if she would herself deliver it to the person to whom it was addressed at once. Glancing at the superscription Mrs. Dawson read the name—"Mrs. Downing."
"Is the letter for Mousey's school-mistress?" she inquired.